Newest Recruit
by WishfullyThinking
Summary: A young girl climbs onto a bus thinking it was going to a Summer Camp, where she would be a councillor. WRONG! Instead, she climbed up on a bus containing our favorite RED and BLU mercenaries! She has no idea what the future holds. Perhaps she can survive without getting critically injured or harassed for her true gender? I hope so. Bad summary, no pairings yet. Original 10th Class
1. Hm, Is this right?

**Alriiiighty.**

**I'm not even sure what the pairing is going to be for this shit, but whatever.**

**There is a girl in this fiction. Nobody(BLUs or REDs) will know until a while.**

**You have been forewarned.**

**Language, Alcohol, gore, death, etc. Maybe drug use. I have no idea yet.**

**Begin!**

* * *

She knew wasn't her fault, honestly.

Who wouldn't have gotten on the wrong bus when the bus schedule clearly stated 3:00? The bus was sitting there, quiet as could be. People were jumping on, and she had assumed she would be late. She let out a breath, running a hand through her short hair, pulling on her baseball cap tightly. She wore her usual summer clothes, a pair of running shorts, a baggy purple t-shirt. If you really wanted to know the details, she wore a sports bra underneath (being an A-cup didn't really make her have anything to show off), but otherwise she wasn't too worried about her garments, under or over.

It was in the summer, or at least starting, in May. She had just been taking a semester off in college, and she had accepted an offer for a counseling job over in some summer camping area near the west. She had accepted, having prior jobs with such positions. The bus schedule she had been given clearly stated her bus was to arrive at 3:00.

And there it was.

The reason she wanted to go to a summer camp was just to get away from home. Her mother had been bugging her to get out of the house ("But not near any stores, mind you!") and go do something that would pay. Her friends either not talking to her or in jail didn't help that she didn't have anyone to hang out with. Her old job was a bore, staying in a library was as dull as it gets, wasn't exactly exciting. So, she was pleasantly surprised that she had been offered a job as a counselor. Luckily it wasn't a gooey-nice sort of councilor you got in high school, so she accepted it.

So she pulled her backpack back on, as it had been slipping down her shoulder, annoying the hell out of her. Taking a deep breath, she got in line, and finally stepped inside the bus. She hadn't realized that it was so big, and carried so many people. The first she saw was a very, very large teenager, or man. It was hard to tell. It was also hard to tell whether or not he was overweight or just so over-muscular his skin was ready to burst. Beside the hulking figure was a small man, not exactly dainty, but definitely smaller than the man-balloon. She slid away from them. She noticed much older men than teenagers, which she would have expected, considering this was summer camp. Some guy who appeared to have a _soup bowl_ on his head, barking madly at a man wearing a yellow construction hat, who seemed to ignore him, strumming on his guitar. Behind them was a man in an eye-patch, snorting, and she could taste something foul in the air. She raised her brows, wondering if she should report the man to the bus driver, but decided to let it go. _Might as well not start picking fights, y'know?_

What was really strange is that there were so many older men. Was this right? She knew that this camp was big, like, high school big; it said so on the paper she had accepted. So… maybe teachers and other councilors? Cooks, stuff like that? She supposed this was what she had to assume.

She finally settled on sitting next to a teenage boy, or what he appeared to be, wearing a blue t-shirt and trousers. He looked like some blast-of-the-past kid, his hair all smoothed back, a secret chain under his shirt that he thought no one could see. She muffled a smile, her lips twitching with effort as she settled in. She noted that she was the only one in the bus wearing purple. And, in fact, it was drawing attention to her. The men in blue glance at her suspiciously, from her shirt to her face, then to her eyes, as if trying to see if she were a threat. The men in red were also staring, but not as frequent. They appeared not to see her as a threat.

Finally, when the last man got on board the bus began to move. She was surprised at the man's appearance; he was wearing blue ski-mask of sorts and a similar blue suit and tie, appearing to be in a sort of pin-stripe fashion. He was also smoking, the scent wafting towards her nose, causing her to cough despite her attempts not to. The man in the mask glanced at her, a smirk on his lips.

_'Dick,'_ She thought to herself, sticking out her jaw in attempts at looking impressive while he passed. _'Maybe some people don't like sucking in cancer.'_

She yawned; smacking her lips audibly before turning to the boy she sat with.

"So, this yer' first time?" She asked, her voice not exactly giving away any femininity. Her voice was more or less deeper than most girls she had been friends with, perhaps living with her father for such an amount of time did that, she had no idea. The boy stared at her a moment, studying her face and glancing at her shirt before giving her a small smile.

"Nah, I've been there a few times. Lucky, really. My Ma really wanted me to stay home, too." He seemed to puff out his chest, "But I told her that a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. "

She managed not to roll her eyes. She noticed, however, that the teen had a Bostonian accent, so she deduced he was most likely from somewhere around New York.

"Yer' not from around here, are yah?" She asked a slightly amused smile on her face.

"Naah, I come from Massachusetts. Waitaminute, which state is this again?" He frowned, rubbing his chin.

"Yer' in Kansas; how in the hell do you not know where you are?" She frowned, feeling the bus go over a couple of bumps. The teen frowned, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Well, I've been on this bus awhile when they began pickin' people up. I guess I just lost track of the time. Slept most of the way." The teenager replied. She decided to take this normally as possible. This was probably normal, really. She just never heard a kid not knowing where he was on a bus.

"Sooo…" She began after a moment of silence, "Are you excited to go over there?"

"Are you kiddin'? This job is awesome!" He exclaimed, gathering a bit of attention, which was almost lost immediately. "I can't wait to go over there and start!"

She was amused by his excitement for the camp. Maybe she could be friends with this kid, maybe. He looked like a nice guy, more or less, but not the type she would date. Maybe a buddy or something. She hoped that she'd get paired up with someone friendly like him when they were looking over the kids.

She maintained a quiet presence most of the ride, when the bus finally stopped a moment. A few of the red and blue people stood, peering to the window with a kind of child-like curiosity. Suddenly, a woman with black hair up in a tight curl stepped onto the bus, in a purple business dress, similar purple glasses on her nose. She held a clipboard in her hand, scribbling away as she scurried down the hall. The strange woman's eyes suddenly focused on her, and she felt a little bit afraid. But it was soon extinguished. Why would she be afraid?

"Excuse me, but I do not believe you are in the correct color." She stated calmly, peering towards her, "You should be wearing red or blue, not purple. That is only for me and the Announcer."

She felt confused. Why would it matter which color shirt she wore? She shook her head, "Fine, I'll change when we get there." She sighed, tapping her foot, daring the woman to say anything to provoke her. The strange woman stared a moment before curtly nodding, stepping back to the front, sitting down in a seat she had not noticed was unoccupied.

"Y'know who that is? That's Miss Pauling." Said the teen, practically drooling. She rolled her eyes, maintaining the urge to flick him on the nose when the bus hit another bump. She heard the drunk man groan, calling for mercy. Apparently, the bus driver took this as a complaint of nausea, and reluctantly stopped at what could only be called the most disgusting restrooms ever. They were filed out of the bus, and were told to use the restroom. Unluckily for the drunken man, he simply rolled into the ditch at the side of the road and began to dry heave. The others stepped over him without giving him a second thought, and decided it was for the best. She certainly couldn't do anything.

Despite the slight pushing of her bladder, she didn't feel the need to touch the handle of the restroom's door. She made a disgusted face, grinding her teeth as she cringed. Stepping away from the door, she was surprised to accidently bump into something alive.

"Woah, sorry there." She apologized, spinning around to see the man in the suit. He smirked slyly, gesturing with a hand that it was no big deal. She let out a small breath, and decided to allow the strange man to stand beside her.

"I was wondering why you were wearing purple," Began the man, who took a long pull of his cigarette, breathing it out slowly, the scent wafting towards her nose. "Could you be confused?" His voice was a purr, expecting a confused reply.

"No! I just simply didn't have any clean shirts today, other than this one." She sniffed, taking a step away from the man. He laughed a little, and she finally noticed that strong French accent. So they were getting people out of country? That's kind of cool.

"What're you doin' out in the states, Frenchy?" She asked coolly, deciding not to cough when the smoke blew near her nose. The Frenchman laughed a stereotypical "Hon hon hon!" sort of way.

"My good boy, I am the Spy." He snorted, "Just one of the few, I might add. It seems you haven't gotten the memo yet." He laughed, having the gull to pat her shoulder. So they thought she was a boy, eh? Well, that didn't bother her. What did bother her was that she hadn't gotten 'the Memo'. What in the hell was that? But before she could ask, the bus driver honked the horn, and the men suddenly ran out of the restroom at lightning speed. It seemed the balloon-man, however, got trapped in the door with the man with the soup-hat. She snorted as they cursed and insulted one another, but it was eventually resolved when the man with the goggles kicked them out of the door way, smirking all the while. The goggled-man stepped over the two, going over to the ditch and helping the drunken half-asleep man in the ditch onto the bus. Eventually everyone piled back in, and they made their way to… wherever the hell.

* * *

**What did you think of this first chapter?**

**Don't worry, our mystery woman will be revealed.**

**TBC!**


	2. Friendly Much?

**Next chapter ahoy!**

* * *

She was disappointed when she found her seat with the young man taken by the man with the soup-hat, so she search for a moment with her eyes, her inner shyness creeping up on her when she heard a soft, Texan voice.

"Y'all can sit right here." Said the man with the goggles, strumming on his guitar with a friendly smile on his face. She managed to smile back, sitting down beside him, allowing herself to look him over. He appeared about middle-aged, with a shaved head under that yellow hard-hat. He wore overalls and a red t-shirt underneath, and a pair of scuffed up brown work-boots. He also wore a yellow glove, most likely for protection against electrical equipment, as he seemed to be the handy type with his goggles, helmet, and a large tool-box under his feet.

"So, I was wonderin' your name, partner. M' name is Dell Conagher, but people call me Engineer 'round here. Or Engie, for short." He asked, smiling as he begins to tune his guitar once more, which seemed to be another one of his skills. She found his accent to be quite calming, so she believed it would be safe to expel her name.

"Tracy, Tracy Richardson." She said proudly, crossing her legs. She wondered if this would have caused them to notice she was female, but apparently the Engineer didn't notice at all.

"Lemme introduce y'all t' my group. Up there next to the darker fellow, the man in the army uniform, is Jane Doe. Yeah, I know, funny name. Just call him the Soldier and y'all'll be right fine. The darker fellow beside him is named Tavish DeGroot, but we just call him the Demoman." He explained, and she eventually understood why her name wasn't all that noticeably feminine. With names like those, she seemed very masculine.

"The larger man is named Boris Ivanov, but he's called the Heavy for obvious reasons. The scrawnier man next to him is Fritz Behandlen, we call him Medic. Holler for him if you get hurt. That string-bean you were sitting next to earlier is named Billy Campbell, but we call him the Scout." He pauses to take a breath, reaching to his side to take out a bottle of bourbon and take a gulp before setting it back in its hiding place. It appeared that the Demoman wasn't alone in drinking.

"The man in the back, in the suit, we just call him the Spy. He ain't tellin' us his name. The other man, the antisocial lookin' one in the sunglasses is named Mr. Mundy. He hasn't told us his first name, but I think he'll eventually warm up to it. But he's called the Sniper." He yawned, gently putting his guitar beside him. "And watch yer'self around them BLU folks. They tend to be a bit… bitter." Nodding, she noted the sun had gone down fast than she had anticipated. She felt the day wear on her too as she yawned, cursing herself for catching it.

"We'll… eventually stop in an hour or so at a hotel or something and we'll sleep…" He yawned, and appeared to fall asleep before he could continue. Tracy frowned, allowing herself to close her eyes a moment.

* * *

When she awoke, she was hungry as hell. The bus was moving, as if something very heavy had jumped off of the bus, and it had. She looked up, noticing that the rest of the members of the bus had begun to file off. It was still dark, perhaps eleven or twelve at night, and they were sitting at a very dingy looking hotel. But she was too hungry and her bladder too full to care. Shaking the Engineer beside her, she managed to get off the bus and sprint across the space to the door, and to the nearest bathroom. Which was unfortunately upstairs. After emptying her bladder, she went back downstairs, noting that the men had gone into a large dining-area to pick up food. She was too starved to care where they ate, but it appeared they were taking their food upstairs. She went in line with a paper plate, stumbling upon the Sniper dressed in RED garb. He appeared to glance at her a moment, looking to her purple shirt to her face, and back to the food on the table. She shrugged, grabbing the food she could get. A few chicken wings, barbecue sauce, a bit of steak. It appeared they had everything she wanted to eat. She even got a few Brussels sprouts and some salt and pepper. She began eating where she stood, in the middle of the room, not sure where to go. As the Sniper passed by with just vegetables on his plate, she poked him with the back of her fork, hoping to gain his attention.

"Err… 'scuse me, where are we taking our food?" She asked politely, appearing to surprise him. He frowned deeply, as if he were uncomfortable. He avoided looking at her, his eyes darting to the stairs.

"Upstairs. Pick any room yah want." He replied hurriedly, and began to step away when she again engaged him in conversation.

"Why're you just taking vegetables? Are you a vegetarian?" She asked, taking a bite of her steak.

"Err… no. I just don't trust what goes in those processed foods. It's better to hunt and kill your food. At least you know what yer' eating." He replied, walking and talking, appearing to be somewhat bothered by her talking to him. They went upstairs, the Sniper looking for a room to escape in. He hadn't planned to talk to anyone. Actually, he rarely did, only when he had to. When it was necessary. And this was just NOT necessary.

"Hey, hey, I'm not gonna bite. What's wrong with you?" She asked, appearing somewhat insulted, the irritation noticeably in her tone. The Sniper sighed, muttering something under his breath before turning back to her. He appeared revolted, in a word.

"I ain't a social person, alright? I'm a hunter, a sniper. I don't wanna get to know you. So please, just leave me be." He replied curtly before leaving her in the hall, climbing up yet another flight of stairs. He didn't feel bad by leaving the new guy behind. In fact, he was quite pleased if he hurt their feelings at all.

Tracy frowned, feeling somewhat insulted and quite rejected before having someone bump into her.

She turned around, prepared to both insult and complain to the person when she noticed they were in a blue flame-retardant suit and a gas-mask, hiding all their skin from head to toe. She didn't remember the Engineer talking about this… thing. It muffled an apology, or something of the sort, and giddily hugged her. She wasn't sure what to make of it. She could both wrestle out of it and escape or she could deal with it. Before she could actually make the decision, the creature had already let her go and began dragging her down the hall and into what appeared to be It's room. It abruptly let her go, batting one of the separate beds, apparently giddy to have a roommate, willing or unwilling. She supposed it was friendly enough, even if it was a bit creepy. The Engineer's warning echoed through her head about the men in blue, but she decided the child-like creature in the mask wouldn't hurt her. At least, not intentionally.

"Uhm… okay, I'll bunk with you." She replied to a question that was never asked, and sat upon the bed. The creature squealed with delight, and sat down in the free bed, setting It's head in It's hands.

"What's your name?" She asked, expecting It to pull off It's mask any moment, but it appeared to have other plans. It took out a lighter from some unseen pocket, turning it on and lighting up It's bedspread. Panicking, she dropped her food on her bed and began to pat the flame out.

"Okay, okay! Don't light anything else on fire. Um… Lemme guess… a Pyromaniac?" She asked. It shook It's head, making a gesture for 'smaller'.

"Pyro?" She asked after a moment of thought, and received a hug in return. "Ooookay, Pyro it is." She chuckled, patting the Pyro's head. It then let her go, allowing her to continue to eat.

Eventually, the two went to sleep, crumbs on her bed from her food, the smell of stale sweat from the time under the sun. She sighed as she felt herself succumbing to sleep easily. It was a strange, strange day.

* * *

**How's this?**

**TBC!**


	3. I've been lied to!

**Yay, another chapter! Thanks for reviewing and giving back so much positive feed-back!**

**Sorry, this has a 10th class. I'm trying not to carbon-copy any original classes!**

* * *

Tracy's dreams were fuddled up, mushed together and hard to keep track of. One second she thought blood was trailing down her fingers, the second something huge, a shadow of sorts, came crashing down on her. A face in the darkness, a face she didn't want to think about. A face from the past…

She opened her eyes, startled awake.

She had been awoken by (thankfully) the sound of a large "BANG!" and many shouts. She groaned, pushing herself up from the bed, slowly making her way to the bathroom. She wasn't exactly sure where the Pyro was, but assumed that it had gone to breakfast. She slowly brushed her hair, taking her toothbrush from her shoulder pack, slowly getting clean. She was too lazy to change her clothes into anything clean, so she just stayed in what she had worn the previous day. Deciding not to shower, she pulled her shoulder pack and baseball cap, walking outside to find the Heavy and the Soldier in a wrestling match near her door.

"Hey, hey, hold up!" She yelled allowed, causing the two to look up. "Damnit, I just woke up. Can't yah just go to breakfast?"

Apparently that was a no, since they began to wrestle once more. Tracy sighed, stepping past the two to go downstairs. There she was greeted by the Engineer in red, who passed her a plate of bacon and eggs. She nodded thankfully, digging in, having a cup of coffee. After everyone eventually ate, they piled into the bus once more and shoved off. Tracy was surprised to find that Miss Pauling was still with them. She hadn't noticed the woman in purple get on or off the bus. Eventually, Tracy closed her eyes and took a nap, waking up an hour or two later to the sounds of chatter and a bump in the road.

Sitting up, she noticed they were out in the desert. In Kansas, this wasn't too unheard of, but she had never seen such buildings ahead.

Ahead there were two large buildings, at least three stories, looking like concrete apartment buildings standing far, far apart. In the middle of these two buildings what appeared to be some sort of battleground. Bullet holes riddled the area, guns and other weapons scattered about. Her mouth fell open, confused. She bumped the Engineer sitting next to her, asking why so many weapons were scattered about.

"'Prolly left there by the last group. Don't worry, it'll be cleaned up." He said smoothly while pulling his tool-box onto his lap. She was getting the feeling this wasn't a Summer Camp, but was too shocked to say anything. Tracy frowned, but was distracted by a sign as they went over a dusty and rock-ridden road. The sign said in big, blocky purple letters "Teufort".

The bus finally stopped outside, a small concrete building residing outside of the battleground, in the middle of the two buildings. The people began to file off the bus, Tracy being one of the last, with Miss Pauling. They began to walk into the concrete building, looking to appear like a locker room. The men began to line up depending on their color. She wasn't sure which line to go in, seeing as she hadn't changed, but was pulled back by Miss Pauling, who ushered her into another room. It appeared to be something of an interrogation room, with two chairs, a desk, and a curtain hiding the rest of the room. Miss Pauling locked the door behind them, and sat at the table, gesturing for Tracy to do the same.

"Now, Richardson, please sign here at the bottom." She gestured towards a paper sitting on the desk, in front of Tracy. She squinted, reading a bit of the fine print.

"What's it for?" She asked.

"All we want you to do is be quiet about the weapons. Those are for 'target practice', another part of our curriculum." Explained Miss Pauling smoothly. Tracy had, no, wanted to believe her, and decided to sign her name. Miss Pauling swiftly pulled the paper away and filed it into her purse, as if Tracy were to snatch it away.

"Now, Ms. Richardson… Yes, I know you are female. We sent you the job offer, remember? Anyways, I need to speak about the 'Camp'… I suppose you already figured out this isn't a summer camp, correct? Good, it appears you're smarter than I first anticipated. I'm sorry to say this, but I have lied to you. Multiple times it seems. This is not a summer camp, this is a war. And since you have accepted our offer and signed our waiver— yes, you just signed a waiver— we are not responsible for you if you die. Actually, you are going to die many, many times. You are a recruit, a beta test." Miss Pauling paused, seeming to rummage through her bag while Tracy seemed to be in shock. Miss Pauling set a pile of clothes on the table, sliding it across the table.

Tracy took this news in slowly, shock obviously on her face. She was going to die? A lot? Why in the blue hell would they tell her about that?! Well, she supposed she signed a waiver, but still! She felt her heart speed up, her eyes go large.

"You are a Thief. Yes, we know of your past… activities."

How in the hell did they know that? She hadn't told anybody about her mania…

"Mr. Blutarch was surprised when he heard that somebody had… wandered into his storage facility and stole goods. It is actually very surprising, considering the guards around the area and the alarms. Have you been trained in this? No? Interesting. Anyways, we tracked you and found your place of residence, your name, etcetera. Your criminal record is quite amusing, actually. Don't you think you should have stopped that when you had a chance? I see you got a deal third time around when a group of friends of yours went robbing a family's house while you thought they were out for dinner. You admitted to the court you saw what they did? Your friends must have been… devastated. You were seeing a psychiatrist for your kleptomania, remember? I see old habits die hard with you…"

"We know of your pickpocketing, shoplifting. You have skill in this, skill that which can blossom under the right setting. You have been hired by Mr. Blutarch to be a mercenary in Builders League United, or BLU for short. He does not know of your gender. If he had, you wouldn't have been hired. The Announcer, Helen, has… altered your information a bit. It would be wise to keep your gender hidden. Allow the men of both teams to assume you are male. This might be tasking, I understand. This is why I have given you a few things," She patted the clothes, "To aid you in your task. And, I am sorry to say this, you cannot leave. You have signed a contract and agreed to this work. BLU owns you. But do not worry; you will be receiving your pay..."

Pauling slid a slip of paper across the table, allowing Tracy to pick it up. It was a check, and Tracy was very pleased and surprised by the amount of zeros in front of that number.

"Your pay is not as high as your team-mates will be, so don't ask them. Your pay is lowered so you may pay back what you stole from Mr. Blutarch. Imagine that you tried to dine and dash, and now you're the bus boy. But in a more violent setting." She paused, chuckling. Tracy wasn't sure if she should take this as an insult, but Pauling continued before she could reply.

"The Medic will be seeing you for your surgery. Yes, surgery. You'll be awake, but you will not feel pain. Also, you must wear this vest in order to hide your breasts. He will notice, obviously, if you don't. Say it makes you feel better, whatever, just do it. Now go to your base, it's the one with the BLU banner. And change into your clothes after the surgery."

"Wait, I wanna ask a few questions." Tracy said firmly, gripping her seat tight. Miss Pauling sighed, and nodded.

"I'm gonna die? A lot?" She asked, her breathing wheezy from fright.

"Well, yes. But after the surgery you'll… come back. I don't know how, only the Announcer, Mr. Redmond, and Mr. Blutarch know."

"Do I have to kill people?"

"If you want to die less, yes."

"What exactly am I going to do here?"

"You will steal the intelligence, that is what you do. The Intellegence is a briefcase color-coded to your team. You will be attempting to take the RED briefcase. You will have weapons and tools at your disposal, and you will also have your team backing you."

"When can I quit?"

"We have you under contract for two years. After those two years, you may be able to leave, or you can stay of your own will."

"Can I call my parents?"

"Yes."

"Can I contact Blutarch?"

"No."

Tracy sighed, resigning herself to these facts. She was stuck here, and she was going to die. A lot. But she was more comfortable knowing she could call her mother. And the fact that she would 'come back' after dying was nice. But she really didn't want to die a lot. Or kill anyone. Grabbing her clothes, she stuffed the check into her pocket and opened the door and walked outside. It appeared that the men were going to their buildings. The RED Engineer waved, walking over to her.

_'I wonder how many people he's killed_…' She wondered to herself.

"Howdy! So, which team're you on?" He asked brightly.

"Uh… well…" She stepped back, towards the BLU building. The Texan's smile soured, his expression becoming grim.

"Right... right." He began, stepping back as well, heading to his own building.

"Hey! Wait! Um... we can still talk, right?" She asked, feeling stupid. The Engineer looked back at her, taking a moment to think before offering her a small smile.

"Yeah… maybe." He answered, and began walking again.

Satisfied that she might talk to him again, she headed towards the BLU building, allowing herself to take in the sights.

* * *

Eventually she made it up a flight of stairs in the BLU building. Her team glanced at her before going on their business, apparently already picking rooms. It appeared she had her own room, a sign over the doorway that said "Reserved for Richardson" on the top. She took the sign down, blushing somewhat, and headed inside. Inside was a small room with a bed, nightstand, desk with a chair, and a drawer. She filled her drawers, put paper on the desk, basically claiming her room. She was surprised to find a small radio. She was also quite surprised to find a small bathroom in the next room connected to hers. It was very cramped with a small light overhead. Luckily there were a few cheap shampoos and a scrubber, no conditioner or body wash to be found. Setting her tooth-brush on the sink, she went back into her room and pulled on the vest she was given under her clothes. It constricted her chest almost immediately; whatever breasts she had were gone. She sighed, stepping back out into the hallway, asking a Soldier where the Medic might be.

"Fritz is probably downstairs, in the infirmary. Go downstairs in the basement and take a right." He explained, then began walking off, muttering something about 'Fritz Behandlen his balls'.

Following his instructions, she managed to make it to the infirmary without getting too lost. She opened the door, a blast of cold greeting her. And the sound of cooing.

Walking inside, she was greeted by a large mass of doves, all perched overhead, tilting their heads in curiosity at the recruit. She felt immediately estranged, as if she were being watched by aliens, but shook it off as she looked for the Medic.

Looking about, she noticed a strange sort of gun near a gurney. (This was splattered with blood, not to her surprise) It was large and blue, most likely color-coded to the team, and had a few switches and buttons she was urged to push. Pulling back a lever, she was surprised when a beam of blue light emerged from the gun, hitting her in the face. She didn't know what to do, having been met with a strange sensation as she breathed it in. She kept breathing, leaning into the source of the light, her brain floating above the clouds. It was pleasurable, not like that of an orgasm, but of something so intense her body shook. She was surprised, however, when the lever was pulled back, the light gone.

She fell down on her knees, heaving in breath. It seemed when you fell from the high, you fell hard. She felt a strong pain in her eyes and the back of her head, gasping for clean air. She heard someone clicking their tongue, as if she was a naughty child having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Unartig Knab, you should know not to touch someone else's things without their permission!" Said the Medic, amused.

* * *

***Naughty boy**

**How's this chapter?**

**TBC!**


	4. Surgery Sucks

**This chapter is kinda shitty, just warnin' yah.**

**I had to fix this chapter up. It was pretty bad and really rushed. I hope this is better.**

* * *

Tracy shakily got to her feet, ignoring the laughter from the Medic. She supposed it was somewhat funny, but she wasn't amused.

"So... hmm… yes, you are here for your surgery, ja? Strip yourself of your shirt and we shall begin." He nods, stepping over to a sink and washing his hands, slipping on a pair of gloves. Tracy slipped off her top, happy that the vest was able to be opened but still constricting her tightly. The Medic turned around, noting the vest.

"I cannot cut through that vest. Remove it." He stated whilst removing his lab coat, standing by a surgical table.

Tracy looked from the medical table to the Medic. Damnit, this guy was a doctor! He'd eventually notice that she WASN'T a guy. Might as well get it over with. Stripping her top, the doctor was surprised momentarily.

"Vhat… uhmm... You are female?" He asked, momentarily surprised. This would have been more surprising if he hadn't been in the field he was in. He'd seen stranger things than a woman in battle, but he was slightly put off by it.

"Err… yeah. So… that's why I had to wear the vest, okay?" She grunted, crossing her arms, feeling a chill go through her body. The Medic hummed for a moment, not sure how to take this information before patting the bed.

"Lay down. Now explain to me why you are here."

She did as she was told, the Medic beginning to take out a scalpel, turning on the ray-gun to a low degree. The sensation wasn't like before; it felt like a low hum going through her body, making her skin vibrate. At least, that's how it felt to herself.

"Well… I was kind of tricked into this job… I thought this was going to be a summer camp or something. So, I jumped on the bus and I came here. I was kinda stupid, I guess, not noticing all the older guys, but I fooled myself into thinking they were a part of the crew, y'know? Like cooks and stuff? Anyways, I only found out, like, a minute ago that I was going to die a lot. Sooo… yeah."

The Medic nodded silently, taking a scalpel in between his fingers.

"Now, I am going to cut into your chest. I will not try to… ehm... grope you, ja? Just stay still. And you might feel a prick or two." He began slicing almost immediately, a strange sensation going up her body. It wasn't exactly as painful as she had expected, but it was more than uncomfortable.

"So… I am guessing you wish for me to keep quiet?" He asked, finally reaching above her stomach, where he stopped his blade.

"Erhm… Doctor-patient confidentiality, right?" She chuckled, trying not to look down at her chest, knowing that muscle and bone were exposed. The Doctor chuckled somewhat in amusement, leaning down and messing with something in a bag, bringing out what appeared to be a miniature car-jack of sorts.

"Now this will be… unpleasant. I would advise you to stay still." He then appeared to shift her ribs apart, sliding the jack in between the bones. She bit her lip, feeling bile rise in her throat. Oh god, couldn't he just do this while she was unconscious?

"The worst isn't over yet. Help me with this, would you?" He asked, gesturing for her to take her ribs. She shuddered, but grabbed the ribs that were plying apart, feeling her flesh and muscle protest as the bones went in places they weren't originally supposed to. The doctor began using the jack, with immediately snapped the ribs out of place, eliciting a small yelp of pain from the patient below.

"Yes, that looks good. Just keep it like that." He murmured, taking the car-jack from her chest and setting it beside the bed. He then took a scalpel, leaning over her in an almost menacing manner.

"You will feel a small prick, and a lot of pain. But do not worry, just keep your eyes open and you will not die." The Medic said casually as he began maneuvering around her lungs and to her heart, where she began to feel a lung short. "Oops, don't worry; I'll put that lung back in place."

She then felt a huge amount of pain, her breath becoming even shallower, and the room growing dark. She felt something slap at her face, someone yelling at her in a foreign language.

"Vake up, fraulein! The procedure is almost complete!" He yelled as she finally kept her eyes open on her own, feeling weak. At this point, she willingly looked down at her chest. It wasn't as bad as she had expected, however. Everything looked normal, although her ribs were sticking out and she could see her lungs. (One of them was in the wrong place, but she ignored that)

"Stay awake; I will go get your new heart." He said while walking over to what appeared to be a fridge, plopping her heart into a glass of what appeared to be water. Tracy took this moment to calm herself, looking around the room. Overhead, she could see Miss Pauling, who appeared to be writing on a clipboard. Pauling shook her head, obviously disappointed she couldn't keep her gender from the doctor, but wasn't surprised.

Suddenly, a small dove landed on Tracy's upstanding rib, tilting its small head at her, the cooing in the room almost like incipit laughter.

"Shoo!" She hissed, thankful that the dove had complied, fluttering back up to its flock.

"I see you've met Archimedes." Said the Medic as he returned with a large heart in his hand, with some sort of small metallic contraption stabbed into it.

"Ewh, do you think that will even fit in my chest?" She asked with disgust, staring at the heart as if it were a particularly large spider.

"One of these fit inside the Scout's chest, I'm sure it will for you as well. You are a bit thicker than him, so I suppose." He lowered the heart underneath the ray, pulling the lever back on the gun, which caused a ray of light to shoot out and envelope both Tracy and the heart. The heart began pumping wildly, erratically until it seemed to absorb the rays light.

"Ooh, zat looks gut…" He muttered to himself, dropping the giant's heart into her chest cavity, putting her lung back into place. He then helped her snap the ribs back into place, which was still extremely uncomfortable, but a bit less straining on her muscles. Turning the ray back on her and pushing it in somewhat, he pulled back the lever, allowing the ray to heal her back up. Tracy was surprised to feel her breath come back to her, the room growing bright once more.

"So? How do you feel?" He asked, pulling down the hem of her shorts, surprising her with the sudden movement.

"Uhm… good… what in the hell are you doing?" She grunted, suddenly wanting to punch him in the jaw.

"I am implanting a chip into your thigh. This will allow you to respawn, which means you will 'come back' from the dead, I suppose." He explained, cutting into her thigh without much thought, pain striking up her back.

"Owch! Fuck, okay, jeez, just hurry that up!" She cursed, noting that the Medic smirked somewhat at her complaints. The Medic then pulled out a small, blue chip, and stuffed it into the cut he had made. The cut closed after another beam of light from the ray-gun.

"What is that thing called anyways?" She asked, pointing at the glowing ray-gun of sorts.

"It's called a Medigun, which heals those who are injured without fault. Now off you go, fraulein…" He shooed her away with his hands, looking uninterested.

"You won't, uhm, mention to anyone I'm a girl, right?" She asked with pleading eyes. The Medic glanced at her a moment before shrugging, turning back to the floor and grabbing her vest and shirt, throwing it at her and allowing her to pull them on before answering.

"I suppose I can keep quiet about it for now, Fraulein. Now off you go." He replied, and shoved her from the room.

* * *

**TBC! Sorry I kind of lied about nobody know. It was kind of inevitable the Medic would find out. e_e**

**Also, would anyone actually mind if there was romance in here?**

**There wouldn't be too much. I am even thinking about Paulling/Tracy, perhaps, but it's just a thought.**

**Have any suggestions that wouldn't be too bad?**

**Also, to Okamilover:**

** I know that Scout is about twenty-three,**

** and that he is Bostonian. But Tracy doesn't know those facts, try**

**to think of it as Tracy's thoughts, but in third person... eh.. kind**

**of a stupid explaination, but it WORKS.**

**To Fanmail:**

**Wut?**


	5. Stereotypical Things

**Here's the new chapter!**

**Oh, by the way, the old chapters are subject to reform, so check back there just in case.**

* * *

Tracy quickly un-tucked her t-shirt from her shorts, grumbling as she stomped back upstairs. It was going to be a loooong time being a mercenary. She was not going to enjoy it.

Upstairs was a bit warmer, opening up to a large kitchen area. The area was mostly inhabited by the Scout, Engineer, Heavy, and Demoman. Tracy wasn't necessarily surprised that the Demoman was sober, but he was still drinking at the table. Heavy was eating something, a sandwich it appeared, a large mini-gun at his side sitting on its own chair. The Scout appeared to be trying to engage the Engineer in conversation, while the Engineer was looking over blueprints, appearing to ignore him completely. The Demoman looked up when she entered, a smile splitting his face.

"Ey, look, it's the new blood!" He cheered, raising his bottle as he stood from the table, taking a swig. He walked over to her, slapping and arm around her shoulders. She felt somewhat uncomfortable with the contact, but rolled with it, pleased he was sober and friendly and not drunk and pissed off.

The Engineer seemed to glance up at Tracy for half a moment before looking down at his blueprints again.

The Scout grinned at her, waving. He appeared to be the same Scout from the bus.

The Heavy didn't smile, glancing over at her before nodding. Overall, the reception was mixed between not caring and welcoming.

"Um, hi?" She replied, a small smile on her lips as she was dragged over to the table.

"Welcome to BLU! It's been years since we've had any new recruits. Scout over there was our last one; he came here a few years ago." He pointed to the BLU Scout, who grinned.

"I was nineteen when I killed my first goon. He was trying to rob me, so I BONKed 'em!" He snorted. Tracy was shocked. _A kid at, what, nineteen, killing people?_ _Jesus Christ, this place was hell, hiring someone at that age. And for what, killing more people?_

"I was hired for my speed. You've nevah seen anyone run this fast!" He continued pompously, pointing a thumb at his chest. Tracy rolled her eyes despite herself, finding it more or less amusing than she should have.

"So, uh… Demoman, what do you do here?" She asked, not exactly sure. She knew the word 'demo' in the name must be short for 'demolition', but that would mean he was a Demolition man. And this was Builders League United. It kind of didn't make sense, but then again, whole situation didn't make sense.

"What do I— Bloody hell, lad, I'm the DEMOman. I create explosives, bombs, for god sakes. Do you have any brains in that head fulla eyeballs?" He snorted, taking another drink from the bottle.

"Alright, I was just wonderin' since the place is called Builders League United." She shot back, leaning back in her chair.

"So, what're you?" Inquired the Scout, appearing to have lost interest in badgering the non-responsive Engineer.

"Uh, I'm a Thief, I guess." She shrugged. This answer got mixed results. The Demoman seem unaffected by the name, while the Engineer seemed suspicious. Heavy immediately appeared protective of his mini-gun, growling like a pit-bull. The Scout tucked in the gold-chain peeking from his shirt, appearing somewhat nervous.

"If you touch Sasha…" Grumbled the Russian, "You are DEAD." Tracy decided to take that as a promise, not as a threat.

"Uh… Alright, alright, I won't touch, uh, her." She replied hesitantly. It wasn't like she could steal the thing anyways. It looked like, and she was sure it was, a ton.

"Good." The Heavy smiled somewhat. "Little man and Heavy will be friends then." The Heavy then continued eating, ignoring the rest of the conversation. She supposed it was a good idea to keep the large man on her side. She'd rather not die by the hands of her enemy, much less her own team.

"So, how'd you get hired?" Asked the Scout, satisfied he had hidden his chain well enough.

"Well… I kind of… stole something from a BLU storage place. It was an accident, though! I thought it was a regular old storage space." She shrugged, "I stole some money, a few hats, that sort of thing." This was somewhat of a lie. She stole a lot of money from the storage spaces she could get to around the guards, a few hats, and some nick-knacks she had thought were amusing.

The Scout and Engineer seemed mildly impressed, but otherwise unaffected. The Demoman seemed to drink a bit more before replying.

"Well, s'long as you don't go fiddling with anything in my room, we'll be fine." Responded the Demoman, grinning at her. The friendliness in the room was quickly doused when shouting erupted into the room.

"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS. TRAINING TIME. GET INTO YER' UNIFORMS AND GET YOUR HIND ENDS OUTSIDE." Shouted the BLU Soldier, standing at attention near the exit before jogging outside. Everyone in the room groaned, even the Heavy, when the Soldier finished speaking.

"What? What's wrong with training?" She asked, standing up and pushing her chair back into the table.

"Uhm…Trainin' ain't bad." Drawled the Engineer, finally speaking. His words were slow, as if he were thinking everything out beforehand. "…It's just the Soldier that bugs us."

"Yeah, I'd be fine runnin' round the building if Soldier wasn't, y'know, screamin' in my ear all the time." Piped up the Scout.

"C'mon, he ain't that bad once he mellows down." The Scotsman replied, taking one last drink from his bottle before setting it back down on the table, standing up and pushing his seat back in. "He can be pretty fun once that helmet comes off and the handle of his shovel isn't stuck up his ass."

They shared a laugh at that one, but Tracy was actually worried. She wasn't in the best of shape, actually. She was somewhat overweight, something she was actually self-conscious about. It was irritating (but welcome in this situation) that this weight didn't go where it was supposed to (i.e. her breasts) but instead went to her thighs and stomach and upper arms. She could run fairly quickly when she had to, but only in short bursts, sprinting actually. She couldn't even do a chin-up.

"Fuck, I'm going to die out there." She winced.

"Oh, calm down. It's going to hurt, training and stuff, but it'll be fine." Said the Demoman as he walked outside.

"Nope, it's going to hurt A LOT and it won't be fine." Interjected the Scout.

"Shut up, man. Not cool." Tracy replied, not amused.

"I'm just tellin' the truth!" Snorted the Bostonian.

With one last look downstairs, Tracy went upstairs and back into her room, grabbing the clothes she was given by Miss Pauling. She spread them out, looking them over.

The shirt was a dark blue turtle-neck with arm-bands on the upper arms, showing a blue symbol of a man in a fedora and cloak. She supposed this was her symbol, the symbol of a Thief. She had seen others wearing their symbol, like the Scout with the shoe with wings or the Heavy with the fist symbol. The pants were a high-waist, dark-tan dress trousers and with a leather belt. Her shoes were shiny and pointed, but appeared they were good enough to run in. Accessories were also included, such as a goofy looking mask that covered her eyes, a ski hat, and a pair of gloves.

"Seriously? Geez, I'm going to look stereotypical…" She muttered, stripping of her clothes and pulling on her new uniform. She was surprised everything fit so well, even the mask, gloves, and hat fitted nicely. _Did they freaking measure her in her sleep or something?_ She didn't want to know.

Once she was satisfied she wouldn't look like a total idiot out there, she stepped outside, surprised by bumping the Spy in the hallway.

"Excusez-moi." Began the Frenchman, surprised by her outfit. "I see I will not be replaced by a total fool of fashion."

"What do you mean 'replaced'?" She asked suspiciously. She wasn't planning on replacing anyone.

"Oh! I mean you will be taking my place every other day. Didn't Mademoiselle Pauling tell you of this? Non?" He tugged at his mask, drawing on his cigarette. "Unluckily for me, I still must join the group for the torture the Soldier calls 'training'." The Spy snorted, walking downstairs. "See you outside, Voleur."

Tracy joined the group outside, in which they began running laps around the building. It wasn't as bad as she had expected at first. Laps weren't too bad, as long as they weren't racing or anything. The Scout appeared ahead of the group, calling back that he hadn't even broken a sweat yet on the sixth lap. She was happily surprised she was behind the Medic, who was in second place, if they were being judged. But, eventually the Soldier screamed for them to go faster, and the faster they went, the more tired Tracy became. Eventually she was at the back of the group, huffing and puffing. This was bad because the Soldier was second slowest to the Heavy, which meant he would be right behind her to scream in her ear every half second. Eventually they stopped, doing even more work such as cardio, and shooting a gun to see how their aim was. She was happily surprised her aim wasn't as half as bad as she thought, but it was nowhere near the Sniper's, who seemed a little less anti-social than the RED Sniper. Eventually Soldier was begrudgingly allowing people to leave to eat and rest up for the night, but he saw it fit to keep the Thief behind…

* * *

Tracy was sure she was dying. Her lungs hurt, her body was sweaty, and her ears rang from the constant yelling. She wasn't sure what time it was, it was at least evening, however, judging by the setting sun. Her stomach cried out for sustenance, but she knew she wouldn't be allowed to eat until she managed fifty chin-ups. She was on thirteen now, surprised that she could even pull off half of one.

"MOVE IT, MAGGOT. YOU DON'T EAT OR REST TIL' YOU MOVE YOUR ASS." Screamed the Soldier after eating a piece of chicken. Crumbs and spit hit her in the face, causing her to shiver in disgust. _This was torture, plain and simple._

* * *

Finally, she finished the chin-ups, her arms burning and screaming for relief. She had fallen from the bar after she completed the fifty, struggling to get to her knees when the Soldier pulled her up by the hem of her turtle-neck.

"DOWN ON THE GROUND. FIFTY PUSH-UPS." Ordered the Soldier, dropping her once more into the dirt.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**So, how was this? TBC!**

**Also, a few words for reviewers:**

**To Tips:**

**Thank you for helping! I editted a few things so I hope they are fixed up to a good degree.**

**I doubt they had binders in the 60s, though.**

**I'm going to try to put more into their character as the story goes along.**

**To Guest:**

**Ooookay, all caps are not required. :/**

**But work on yer'... uhm... word choice. And grammar.**


	6. White

**Kinda sorta a long chapter. I'm bad with action. :C**

* * *

Tracy had finally woken up on the floor in the kitchen, her head spinning. Sweat had dried on her brow and in her pants. She shivered, opening her eyes, feeling the strain on her muscles as she got to her knees, trying to make her head stop spinning. Outside it was growing bright. The Soldier appeared already awake, stepping towards her and surprising her. She winced, waiting for the screaming once more, and was surprised it never came.

Instead, the Soldier leaned down and shoved a bowl of oatmeal in her face.

"Eat, Maggot." He grumbled, leaving her there with a surprised look on her face. Maybe the Demoman was right. Maybe the Soldier was okay when he wasn't screaming and yelling all the time. Pulling herself into a chair, she ate the bland oatmeal she was given hungrily. When she was finished, her head fell onto the table and she immediately fell asleep.

It felt like two seconds later when the kitchen was abuzz with life. It seemed the Engineer had tapped her on her shoulder to wake her up, taking the bowl of oatmeal and putting it in the sink. People were chattering, some more loudly than others (i.e. Heavy and the Medic, who seemed to be on better terms with each other than the rest of the group) and causing her an ear-ache. Standing up, she decided to go take a shower before she did anything else. She walked back up to her room, hating that they had stairs instead of an elevator, and made her way to her room, where she stripped and took a shower.

Eventually when she was done scalding the sweat off of her skin, she dried off, brushed her teeth, and walked outside naked to find another uniform. She was pleasantly surprised to find more uniforms in her dresser drawer, and pulled one out and put it on. It fit like a glove, just like the last one had. She was just happy she was clean and—

"Ey, Thief!" Said the Scout, busting into her room; she was freaking relieved she wasn't naked when he busted in, but extremely pissed that he could have come in here.

"Hey, c'mon, fucking knock, please." She growled, but lost her anger almost immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. C'mon, we're being called down to do a match." He grabbed her arm and dragged her from her room, "I got the short straw and I get to show you around the place while we're doing it. So, y'know, yer' not totally left behind."

Tracy was somewhat touched by this gesture, but confused. So they picked straws, huh? Was she a burden, or were they all just selfish and lazy? Whatever, men were men. She didn't understand them.

They made their way downstairs and out of the building and towards the large arena area she had seen when they had arrived. They entered cement-built buildings once more, albeit smaller. Inside, she was surprised it was clean. In fact, it looked cleaner than the building they lived in. It looked somewhat like a hospital.

"This is the Respawn area. Once you get killed, you'll pop up right here, no wounds or nothin'." He snorted. "Now we just gotsa'ta wait til' the Announcer comes on and says when it's ready to go."

"So, uhm, where're my weapons?" She asked, feeling as if she were going to die and she pretty sure she was. Dread crept up her stomach, making her feel light-headed. The Scout nodded, walking towards what appeared to be a cubby for all of the Classes. It appeared an extra one had been added on to the end.

"This is yer' weapons." He pointed to the cubby with her uniform on a hanger and a box in the lower part of the cubby. Weapons were left out, which she accounted for.

There was a shotgun, a pistol, a screw-driver, and small, powdery-looking pebbles. She grabbed them all, wondering what the pebbles were for.

"What're these?" She asked.

"Those, Voleur, are smoke bombs. You throw them on the ground and they immediately cover the area with a dense smoke. I suppose you may have, judging on the size of these bombs, at least twelve seconds to escape the area before you become visible again." Said the Spy, coming up behind her and taking a bomb between his fingers. "I would take care not to throw the entire bag on the ground or break the bombs in your pocket." He set the bomb back into her hand and stood beside what looked like a metal garage door.

"Jeez, only twelve seconds? Well, at least it's not shorter than that…" She mumbled, putting them in her pants pocket. She looked to her other weapons, finding a strap to go along with her shotgun and a holster for the pistol. She thumbed the screwdriver and decided to stick it in her other pocket, and shiftily waited in the back of the room while the rest of the team filed in, taking their places and chatting nonchalantly. _How could they not worry?! Didn't they ever think, oh, I dunno, "what if the respawn doesn't work?!" or something?!_

The Engineer seemed to notice her fears (seeing how much she was shivering and twitching) and brought her over a cup of water.

"Calm down, y'all not gonna stay dead. Actually, I've seen the respawn device. Ain't nothing gonna go wrong, I promise." He smiled, patting her on the shoulder. She took a bit of comfort in this, his Texan voice soothing her nerves. She nodded gratefully, downing the cup and trying to calm herself down.

**"MISSION BEGINS IN TEN SECONDS."**

Tracy jumped, slightly startled by the booming voice echoing through the arena. There were a few chuckles, but overall they ignored her, seeming to become more serious as the Announcer counted down.

"Just stick by me, 'kay? Let's hope you can keep up." Said the Scout, elbowing her slightly. She nodded, taking the pistol in her gloved hands, her heart beating erratically as the Announcer reached three.

**"…Two… ONE! BEGIN!"**

The garage-like door opened immediately, her group screaming out war cries as they left the room as if it were on fire.

"LAST ONE ALIVE, LOCK THE DOOR!" Screamed the BLU Soldier, running from the hall and out the door, explosions obviously coming from that direction.

"LET'S DO IT!" Yelled the Demoman after him, taking a drink from his bottle before running out as well.

She squealed as she ran after the Scout, who was just NOT waiting for her.

The Scout ran down the hall and fell down to the next level. Downstairs was basically like a barn, but without any hay or animals. She saw the BLU engineer setting up some sort of gun.

"Sentry goin' up." He drawled, beginning to hit the contraption with a monkey wrench.

The Scout sped past the Engineer, going through another part of the hallway. Tracy followed as best as she could, peering out of one of the multiple doorways.

Outside looked like hell, like war. Which it basically was. There was blood splattered everywhere, the BLU Demoman lying on his stomach with blood coming from his face. Limbs were scattered around (perhaps the BLU Soldier's) and gore was everywhere. She wanted to throw up, averting her eyes from the disgusting sight.

The Scout seemed to jump down, underneath a bridge and into a pipe. Tracy hoped the water wasn't deep, because she couldn't swim for the life of her, and she was pretty sure her life was already threatened.

Jumping after him and narrowly avoiding a bullet she flailed her body around until she reached the pipe. _Great, sewers._

"Dangnabbit!" She heard a familiar voice. Turning, she noticed a sentry, or some other contraption, had exploded into small metallic scraps. It appeared the RED Engineer was cursing over it, not paying attention. Maybe she could just sneak past him—

"Nice try, half-Spook." She heard the Engineer say as she was slipping past him, a wrench in his hands. She narrowly dodged the blow he tried to inflict on her, tackling him to the ground and raising her pistol to his head, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. She really tried to shoot him, she really did.

But she hesitated.

"A little hint of advice from a friend…" He drawled, pulling out his own pistol and aiming it at her face.

"Don't hesitate next time."

Then she saw white.

The next second she was back in the respawn room with her faculties all in check. She shook, yelping somewhat as she opened her eyes. It was if it was a dream, or she had blinked. She rubbed her forehead; sure it was where the Engineer had shot her. But she felt no pain, no wound. So this was the respawn? She was sure damn happy she had it.

Running from the room, she went the opposite way this time around, coming up to a balcony of sorts. Bodies of the BLU Sniper were scattered on the balcony, blood spots obvious. She looked around a moment to get her bearings, wondering if the BLU Sniper was dead or being spawned.

"AGH!"

Tracy turned, hearing the cry of pain. A RED Spy appeared to swagger from the side of the balcony, holding a butterfly knife which was dripping with red.

"Aah, look, a BLU Thief." He sneered, coming at her more quickly, switching his blade with a revolver. Tracy had to think quick, pulling out her screwdriver and tackled him. _What is up with me tackling people today?_

"Shut. UP!" She hissed, ramming the handle of the screwdriver on his nose. She heard a dull cracking sound and a muffled cry of anger and pain.

"Get off of me, Swine!" He shot back, wrestling her off of him. She fell off of him and on her knees, quickly standing.

"You got blood on my suit." He commented with venom, seeming to disappear right before her eyes.

"What? What the fuck?" She hissed, looking around the area and coming up with nothing. Backing up, and not paying attention to where she was heading, she fell from the building and landed on something large and meaty. She slid, falling on her knees and crawling up. Turning, she found herself facing a Heavy and a Medic, unfortunately not on her team.

"YOU!" Yelled the Heavy, pointing at her.

She pointed to herself ironically, smiling nervously.

"Yes, YOU. YOU ARE DEAD." He began lumbering after her. She felt herself freeze up in fear, even while her mind was pushing her to _get the fuck out of there! Move! Holy shit this is going to fucking hurt._

The first blow threw her to the side of the bridge, blood blossoming from her nose and split lip. She hissed in pain, attempting to get up, her paralysis gone. Unfortunately she was beaten down again. She felt her ribs breaking, her overly large heart pumping when a dull crack was heard. She closed her eyes, expecting it was her skull, but was surprised when she heard the RED Medic calling out in fear, footsteps coming her way. She suddenly felt… better. In fact, she felt amazing! She leapt to her feet, looking around animatedly until she saw the BLU Medic and his ray-gun, which he apparently hadn't lied about.

"Thanks doctor!" She called. He nodded in response.

"Yo, a little help here?!" Called the BLU Scout, running between the two as a RED Soldier began to come their way. Tracy pulled out her pistol, firing at the charging Soldier. The Medic jumped out of the way, suddenly a bone-saw in his hand. It appeared the Medic wrestled the Soldier down, albeit somewhat ineffectively as the Soldier began elbowing the Medic in the face.

"Hurry up, Schweinehund! Shoot him!" Said the Medic as blood poured down his nose. Mechanically, Tracy stepped up to the wrestling two, putting the pistol right in the Soldier's face, and fired. The Soldier seemed to spasm somewhat before his face hit the ground, blood dripping from the wound.

"Holy shit, holy shit, I just killed someone." She hissed, fumbling with her weapon. The Medic appeared by her side, pulling her from the area with one hand, wounds seeming to heal on their own.

"Yes, yes, you can talk about that in therapy, but right now we need to get out of this area before—"

Suddenly, it appeared the Medic's face had exploded. Gore splattered her face, a surprised look and then one of horror.

"Holy fuck!" She screeched in fear, stepping away from the falling body of the Medic, not sure what to do. She looked up, attempting to find whoever did this, and was surprised when a dot of red light appeared on her forehead.

And then, another flash of white. She was pretty sure she cried out in pain that time as she died.

She was once again in the respawn area, looking around and finding the Medic as well, who seemed somewhat angry. He ran from the room, not even glancing at her. Tracy ran as well, going downstairs once more and accidentally bumping into someone yet again. This time, it was more confusing than frightening.

The person looked exactly like her, albeit in a red uniform. Their turtle-neck was a dark red, their pants a warmer shade of brown. Their hair was perhaps a lighter or darker tone, although it might have just been Tracy trying to rationalize that it wasn't her.

"Ooh! Another Thief!" She, he, or whatever, it sneered. It raised a pistol at her as it spoke. She quickly dodged from the aim, punching out at its face, which caused it to fall over. They chuckled, a playful tone in their voice.

"Poor wittle Thief doesn't wanna pway!" Cackled the RED Thief, getting up from the floor. If this really was her, or whatever, they were really fucked up on cloning her. She wasn't like this, homicidal or insane or whatever.

She grunted, taking her pistol from her side.

"Ooh! You're getting serious now!" The RED cackled, launching itself at Tracy, who began shooting erratically at them. They seemed to dodge the shots, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her into the wall, raising their screwdriver into her face and bringing the handle down on her like she had done with the Spy. She felt her nose crack, most likely broken.

"You. Should. Just. Give. Up!" It laughed.

"Fuck you." She spat, blood dripping from her lips. This just caused the RED to laugh even louder.

**"Fifteen seconds left in the mission!"**

"Oops, well, looks like our playtime had to be cut short!" Said the RED, dropping her. "Well, see you later, PAL!" It kicked her in the ribs just before it left, appearing to have used a Smoke bomb. She coughed, inhaling the lungs, closing her eyes.

**"Five… four… three…"**

"Jesus Christ, Thief, what'd you do to yourself?" She heard the Scout say, "I guess this'll be a mercy killin'... No hard feelings, right?"

**"****Two… one…****"**

White.

* * *

**TBC!**


	7. Doppelgangers

**I'VE EBEEN GONE SO LONG SORRY**

**Well, I'll try to update more often now. Sorry. :C**

* * *

**"****Victory!****"**

Tracy was greeted by the sounds of cheers as she opened her eyes once more. Her teammates were throwing their hats in the air, hugging each other and grinning broadly. Tracy didn't feel that great. For one, she just fucking saw a clone or something of herself, and two, she was just killed again. The Demoman hugged her from behind and around the waist, lifting her into the air.

"Haha! That's the way to do it!" He yelled in her ear, causing Tracy to be shaken from her thoughts, catching sight of the Scout who just entered. He must've killed her! Disentangling herself from the Demoman's hug, she ran over to the Scout, who was cheering along with them.

"Man, what the fuck?!" She yelled, jabbing him in the chest and catching him by surprise. "You didn't have to kill me!"

The Scout raised a brow, as if the reason why he had killed the newbie was obvious. "Well, I did 'cause after the match ends, the respawn goes offline. You'd have been stuck with that blood mug til' the next match, or the Medic raised a finger to help ya. Between you and me, the guy likes to see pa—"

The Medic coughed into his gloved fist, elbowing the Scout behind the neck. The Bostonian hissed with pain, bending his neck as he rubbed at his newest developing bruise. "But, yah, anyways, I didja a favor."

Tracy huffed, still feeling as if she was going to have nightmares that night. In fact, she was sure she was. All that blood… flesh and bits of bone scattered in the dust. The sound of bullets and screams still rang through her ears. And that clone… those eyes, those wrathful eyes that seemed to say "murder".

Dammit all, she wanted to go to bed, and not to dream.

The group lingered a moment before flowing out of the area and back to the BLU building.

"Yo! Pass the mash potatoes!"

Tracy rolled her eyes, putting an amount on her plate before handing it off to the Scout. Her plate was small at the beginning, not feeling like eating because of those flashing scenes in her head, the exposed muscle and flesh on the ground…

She shook her head from those thoughts. The Soldier had shoved a steak onto her plate, ordering her to eat it if she tried to argue. She supposed she saw his point; she needed to eat in order to fight in matches and stay healthy. And train, of course.

"Well, you weren't exactly the all-star we were expecting," began the Medic, the table hushing somewhat as he spoke to the Thief. "But you weren't a terrible beginning. At least you didn't start crying."

That was a comforting thought, actually. She used to be a cry baby, crying whenever she got caught for shoplifting or in court during her friend's trial. She was surprised she didn't even have a raspy throat. Maybe it took a while to feel the shock, she had no idea.

"Yeah, well, uh, thanks." Tracy muttered, looking from the Medic to her plate, noticing the Soldier glared across the table at her, so Tracy shoved a piece of steak in her mouth.

The table remained quiet for a moment while they ate and drank (mostly the Scotsman drank) until they finally hit dessert, which was a rare treat for the mercenaries. The Pyro came out from the kitchen, the fire alarm blaring, holding a pie in one hand and a cake in another.

"Is that apple pie? That's the American's pie!" The Soldier grinned enthusiastically, taking a slice as soon as the Pyro set down the tin.

"Err, actually, it's more of a British pie… It was invented by the British…" The Thief muttered under her breath, receiving a stare of such magnitiude she didn't even bother to look back.

"As I said, it's America's pie." The Soldier reconfirmed for everyone, and nobody dared argue.

"Uhm…" Tracy piped up after a moment, wiping steak sauce from her lips (with the back of her sleeve, to the disgust of the Spy) and trying to gain everybody's attention. "Can I ask why there was another Thief on the opposite team that looked exactly like me?"

The room was suddenly silenced. Even the Pyro in the kitchen had stopped mumbling a happy tune underneath its mask.

"… We don't talk 'bout it." Began the Texan, hesitating a moment like the rest at answering. "We don't question it. I'd rather not think about the RED Engineer."

"But… but he looks exactly like you… but he's different. Like… he talks louder and he's more friendly…" She tried to push the subject to the Engineer, who subtly began ignoring her by putting on his noise-cancelling earphones.

"And… And the Sniper! He's quieter than you!" Tracy pointed to the Sniper, who tipped down his hat in order not to look at her. "And meaner, I must say…"

"My… whatever it was… was insane… those eyes. They just— they just stared right into me. That Thief was sadistic… cruel…" The words came from her lips in a haunting tone. "Why… why would it act like that?"

"We don't know, really." Murmured the Spy, wiping his lips on a napkin like a proper fellow. "My doppelganger appears to be more or less civilized as myself, yet… darker. I am not sure how to explain it. Indeed, they are sadistic, and I admit I might be as well, but not to the level they take it…"

The table was no longer cheery as the topic of doppelgangers was dropped. Tracy didn't regret it, however. She had to ask sooner or later, and now she knew something was not right, even more so than it already was.

Tracy quickly finished dinner, grabbing a soda before running up the stairs and to her room, where she grabbed a notebook from a desk, scribbling down on it.

_Are they hiding something? Is it because I am new here, that I cannot be trusted with such secrets? I am indeed curious, but estranged, frightened. Why did the Red Thief look so…terrifying? I swear I will have dreams of blood and flesh and those maniacal eyes. Will I be begging for mercy next time I encounter them? I know it will be succourless, but I must try to live with this. I am forced to either way. I doubt I could escape from this place with my life, and including the legal papers I had signed, even going back home would bring nothing but trouble to my mom. _

_I guess I should probably write her, but I won't mention anything to her about this… monstrosity of a place. She doesn't need to worry about me, seeing as she has two jobs just to keep her house. Dad is gone; he's been gone since I was twelve. Damn, this is sounding like a journal or something._

_I guess I should write a journal, considering that it might help me. I do not know, there doesn't appear to be councilors here. Heh, ironic. Sent to place where I thought I would be a counselor, but instead, I need counseling. Ah well._

_It's what? May twenty eighth. I guess I should keep track of the date too. I'll mark the days off until I'm released. I wonder if all the calendars here have pin-ups of girls on them. I hope nobody's, uh, "released" themselves on it._

_Well, I suppose I will write here later._

_- Tracy Richardson._

Closing the notebook, she set her new journal into the desk, turned off the lights. She then undressed in the dark and fell into her bed, ignoring the need to brush her teeth. Damn.

* * *

**TBC!**


End file.
